


love (a fire outside the door of a place you don't want to be anymore)

by namelessdeer



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (so spoilers obviously), Angst, Drabble, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Gen, Gender-Neutral My Unit | Byleth, Nonbinary My Unit | Byleth, Post-Timeskip, anyone else offended when he said that in the cathedral like boy i made you i can UNmake you, have this, i really wanted this to make it over 1k but it wasn't cooperating so just, i'll write something less painful for them someday i swear, title from a caitlyn siehl poem, used both relationship tags because i ship dimileth HARD but this can be read as platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-06 20:23:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20512958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/namelessdeer/pseuds/namelessdeer
Summary: "If you stand in my way, I will strike you down.""No," says Byleth, "you won't."





	love (a fire outside the door of a place you don't want to be anymore)

**Author's Note:**

> this is barely edited and i banged it out in like an hour because dimileth has possessed me mind body and soul

"If you stand in my way, I will strike you down."

The prince turns a baleful blue eye on Byleth, trapping them in its cutting glow. Byleth's breath catches, because seeing Dimitri like this - hearing Dimitri like this - hasn't stopped hurting yet. They don't know if it ever will. What was only months ago to them, Dimitri stood by their side, pledging his sword and his undying support. There were shadows in his blue eyes then, flickering like fish flitting beneath the surface of a pond, but now there is nothing in his gaze but shadow, deep and engulfing, empty and absolute.

Every once in a while, a huntedness stole into his eyes in those carefree days back at the monastery - when he thought no one was looking, when it ached enough he couldn't hide. It woke strange feelings in Byleth - Byleth who handled others' emotions like shards of glass, curiously touching the edges but not knowing how to pick them up without harm. _Protectiveness,_ they realized, eventually. They wanted to protect him.

That hasn't changed. For all his posture screams aggression - muscles taut, drawn to his full height, scowling and poised to pounce - his eyes are not those of a hunter; in fact, he looks more hunted than ever. The image he projects to the world, the image he wholeheartedly believes, is that of a snarling, bristling lion, bloodthirsty and rabid. But looking at him, Byleth is reminded of nothing so much as one of the monastery's half-feral cats, injured and backed into a corner, swiping and spitting at anyone who comes near to help.

"No, you won't," Byleth says, and their own answer surprises themself.

Dimitri's eyebrows shoot up. A tangle of emotions storms over his face before he settles on one, pulls his mouth into a sneer. "Do you really believe me incapable of killing a familiar face?" He turns further from the rubble, leaning to loom over his former professor. "I told you," he growls, "the Dimitri you knew is dead."

The manic gleam in his remaining eye, the way his hand twitches over his ever-present spear - no matter how desperately Byleth does not want to believe it of him, they cannot truly bring themself not to.

But. But.

They spent a year, honing this young prince's skill by their own hand. They led him through the fine points of swordsmanship themself, corrected his footwork and reached across the dusty training grounds to adjust his grip. They spent long afternoons together practicing tactics in battle on horseback, watched his uncertain forays progress into steady, assured strength. They analyzed his every weakness with the sharp eye only a lifetime as a mercenary could have given them, fed it all back to him in the form of criticism and advice.

Dimitri has had five years of waging war alone, five berserker's years to hone his skill in combat.

Byleth has had an entire lifetime, and the power of the goddess at their core.

"No," they say, lifting their chin. "I don't doubt it. You won't, because I'm stronger than you."

If Dimitri had been surprised before, he is so shocked this time as to wipe any trace of that imperious scowl from his face. Byleth - the small, knotted part of Byleth that is hurt and angry and lost - feels vindictively satisfied to see it.

Then, he regains his balance.

He throws his head back - pale, unkempt hair flying every which way - and laughs. It is the first time Byleth has heard him laugh since waking from their five-year slumber.

It is not a pretty laugh.

Wild, ugly, grating - loud enough that it turns heads across the cathedral, which quickly turn back and pretend not to have seen - the laughter scrapes its way from Dimitri's throat so harshly Byleth half-expects to see it fleck his lips with blood. When it dies away he flings his arms wide in challenge, teeth bared in a hollow mockery of a grin.

"You think you can put me down?" he answers, voice savage. "Go ahead and try. I dare you."

Sardonic though his tone may be, Dimitri is serious. It's written in the tension in his body, tight as a bowstring ready to snap. It's written in the frantic glint in his eye, and, Byleth realizes, with another thrill of alarm - they can't tell if he welcomes it because he's certain he'll win, or because he hopes that he won't.

Involuntarily, they take a half-step back, and watch as his expression twists in bitter disappointment. "That's what I thought," he bites out. Letting his arms fall to his side, Dimitri turns back to the cascade of rubble in clear dismissal.

Five years ago - only a handful of months ago - Dimitri and Byleth climbed the Goddess Tower together. His eyes were bright and blue. The air thrummed with a sweet, unspoken tension. Weary but earnest, close enough to touch, he wished for a world in which neither of them would have anyone unjustly taken from them.

Byleth studies the harsh, gaunt line of Dimitri's profile; the cruel, broken line of his shoulders as he broods over the wreckage of the cathedral.

_But I have,_ they think, hands shaking ever so slightly, curled into inert fists at their sides. _But I have._

**Author's Note:**

> everyone else looking at post-timeskip dimitri: unstable, terrifying beast
> 
> byleth looking at post-timeskip dimitri, sorrowfully: kitten thinks of nothing but murder all day
> 
> find me sobbing about dimileth on tumblr @ [aphel1on](https://aphel1on.tumblr.com)


End file.
